Lasting
by Eternal Nocturne
Summary: All he ever wanted was for her to be happy. Every day she lay dying on her hospital bed, and for the longest while all he could do was watch. But not anymore. Link x Zelda, modern-day. Oneshot.


_**A/N: This story will probably sound familiar to those of you who hang around Facebook a lot. I saw something on the Internet one day and thought that it was the saddest thing ever—so here's a Zelda-themed take on it. (Warning: probably very cheesy.)**_

_**Written for Zelda's 25th anniversary. I was supposed to finish this by the "real" anniversary date (February 21), but I seem to have an obsession with procrastinating…**_

_**DISCLAIMER: "The Legend of Zelda" and all rights, including the copyrights of the games, scenario, music and program, reserved by Nintendo. TM and (r) are trademarks of Nintendo. All rights reserved.**_

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><p><em><strong>-Lasting-<strong>_

He'd been standing beside her on the bridge overlooking the ocean not a few months before. The slow, steady beat of the waves, the sparkling light of the moon against the water, the way her lavender scent wafted into his face when the winds blew… He remembered it all.

When the first stars dotted the sky, she'd turned toward him and placed her dainty hand over his. He had looked at her with anxious uncertainty, but when she saw how her violet eyes glittered with the moonlight, something reminiscent of a chill tugged longingly at his heart, telling him that _this_ was the one moment that he'd always dreamed of experiencing. And for an eternity they had just stared at each other with nothing but the sound of the water lapping at the bay rocks in the background.

He'd lifted his hand to bring her face closer to his, but as always, she was a step ahead. And as always, she knew exactly how to do things and when to do them. He loved everything about her, and she loved everything about him. But in that moment, they loved the taste of each other's lips the most.

It was the moment that they longed to have when they first crossed paths what seemed to be ages ago. Whenever she was around him, she felt protected, secure, _loved_. He, on the other hand, felt complete, desired—he realized that he had finally found something worth living for.

She had laid her head tenderly on his chest and heard the sound of his steady heart, silencing even the soft roll of the ocean waves. He was warm. Warm like the sun's gentle touch on a misty spring morning. But only a dozen times better, and different still—it was the warm you could only feel when you're in love.

He'd spoken then, and the vibrations from within his throat made her smile contently to herself.

"Zelda."

Her name had always sounded best he was the one to speak it. She lifted her head leisurely and placed a single hand on his cheek. He smiled that lovely bright smile of his—the one that made her breath catch in her throat—and sheltered his hand over her own. He brought it down to the center of his chest, closed his eyes, and dipped his head slightly. He spoke with a voice unhesitant—

"I love you."

She chuckled. She had already expected it, as she had expected everything else. She crossed her arms behind his strong back and buried her face in his torso.

"I love you too, Link."

Now he stood in the empty corridors of a dark hallway, leaning against the wall and letting his mind trail back to the memories he had shared with her before… before _this_. Maybe it was accidental—or perhaps even destined, no matter how sadistic that sounded—but by some corrupt twist of fate, she'd landed herself in a condition where she so desperately pleaded for something impossible.

Dying. She was dying. The woman he'd known since what seemed to be the beginning of his very existence was fading away from him with every evanescent moment. Every night he'd feel another rift open in his heart, and he'd scream, question just _why_ the Goddesses chose her to die at an age so young, why it couldn't have been him in her place.

As children, they had _plans_—carefree, innocent dreams that they still clung on to even to this day. For her, she wanted so dearly to become a musician; her skill with the harp and her voice would never go unnoticed. For him, it was nothing more than to become some sort of protector of the land; a warrior—but in reality all that he ever wanted to protect was her.

Every day she'd fought this horrible sickness, and yet she succumbed to the weakness of her condition as the weeks flew by. Her rosy skin faded to a sickly pale color before long, and her beautiful violet eyes lost the sparkle that he'd always swooned over. She couldn't walk, and her life had turned into nothing more than lying idly in a hospital bed.

That was why it was so important for him to see her every day. He became her link to the outside world; he was her meadows, her sky. Every flower he brought her came with a story. But tonight there was no story to tell.

The hospital was still open, but this specific section had been closed off hours ago. He was here earlier, idling in this very spot, tugging uneasily at his sleek black gloves like he was doing now. He looked casual as he leaned against the wall, his dirty blonde hair hanging limply down the sides of his face, but his thoughts proved otherwise. Behind the door in front of him was something that he earnestly loathed to see. It looked the same as any other hospital door here—white, with ivory ridges embellishing its sides. He had learned, though, during his past visits here for the previous months, that every door meant something different to every person.

And this door held a place in his mind that he would never forget.

He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it apprehensively, trying to make as little noise as he could. It was nighttime, and he assumed that the room's occupant was already buried in her dreams. But she had heard him even before he stepped in the room, because there was something about his soundless presence that she heard as a whisper that stirred her from her rest.

He slipped into the shadows of the walls and eyed her sorrowfully. She was lying on her back with a clean snow-white blanket cast over her. From the corner of the room he could see her steady breath. Her chest rose and fell with every subtle ripple of the sheets. To her left was a machine, standing silent in vigil as it beeped every few seconds.

She was graceful even as she neared death.

To his surprise, she stirred underneath her sheets and called his name with a voice as smooth as silk—

"Link," she coaxed, lifting her hand from underneath her white covers, "come closer."

Like always, he did what he was told without as much as a single word or thought. His steps were noiseless as he sauntered over to the left side of her bed. He stood in the front of the partially-covered window and let the moonlight nurture his back, casting a long shadow over her. The skin of her face remained pallid and devoid of color against the darkened backdrop. Through all this, her eyes met his, and she smiled.

"I love you," she said. He'd heard it a thousand times before, but in that moment he felt as if he had been standing on the bridge again, holding her in his arms for the first time. For a second his undaunted façade wavered, and his muscles loosened. How could he tell her?

He stepped closer to her and leaned over the bed, finally returning her smile. With a gloved hand he stroked her glossy auburn hair and watched as her eyes brightened to rival the glow of the stars. And then he remembered, again, how beautiful she looked before _this_, before the day he had returned from a visit with friends to find her lying limply on the newly-swept floor in the middle of her apartment. Before the hours he had waited with apprehension in this very hospital, only to meet with the doctor later to come to the revelation that she would die in a few months if they could not find a suitable donor.

He saw in her eyes the memories they had shared together, the times they had endeavored with only each other and nobody else. He remembered once on a certain September day when an unkempt wind had blown her sunhat away, and they spent the rest of the afternoon chasing it through fields of junegrass and meadows of saxifrage. He remembered that on an early spring dawn in April, she'd dragged him to the edge of the lake waters and sang a song about how much she loved pineapples, for no apparent reason. In the same year she had invited him to her apartment and greeted him with a friendly pillow to the face the moment he had stepped through the door. When he had fallen backwards into the hallway, she loomed over him and showed a wicked, cruel, and innocent smile. And then she offered him some tea.

This was it. This was _his_ Zelda, the one that would always lightly brush away some of his bangs away from his eyes, bury her left arm into his shirt and hold his shoulder, and tenderly place her other hand onto his neck before leaning in closer to breathe in some of his familiar scent. His Zelda, the one who would only use blue pens every day of the week _except_ for Saturday and Monday, when she'd use green and red ink, respectively. His Zelda, the one who would keep two home phones in her apartment so that she could call out with one and answer calls with the other.

His Zelda, the one whose quirks he'd remember in his heart for the rest of his life; the one he loved ever so dearly and was dying right before his eyes. And he wasn't even sure if she knew it herself—conversations with her doctor had been private and kept hidden away. Perhaps she was still living in the fantasy that there was still time for her.

But he knew better. This was Zelda. She knew things even before they needed to be said to her. Who was he trying to fool?

From the look in her eyes, he realized that he had hesitated for more than enough time. Grasping her hand, he whispered,

"I… missed you."

She shifted her weight against her pillow so that she almost sat up. Her chuckle brought chills up his spine.

"You just saw me a few hours ago. Are you that needy, Link?"

It was a joke. But in his mind he decided that yes, he was needy. He needed for her to live.

"I couldn't wait until tomorrow, Zelda. I…" He closed his eyes and let his voice trail back down into his throat. He looked away as if ashamed of something. She caught on within moments.

"What do you need to tell me?" she asked, a twinge of uneasiness lining her silky voice. When his hand involuntarily tightened around hers, she pushed again with a bit more terseness, "Link… What is it?"

She saw him sigh, and he watched as she brought her hand to her collarbone. There was no sound then, no voice—except for the beeping heart monitor on the side of her bed. A sign of her lasting life. Other than that, he could barely hear himself breathe. A million thoughts raced through his consciousness. He took too long pondering, and a final thought came that told him that she already knew.

Like she always did.

"…Link… Don't tell me—"

"Zelda." He looked up at her in a sudden. His voice was unfaltering, like the Link she'd grown to love. The moonlight beamed upon his tall figure from behind. She didn't let go of his hand. "You…"

She shook her head.

"No, Link," she denied. "You don't have to tell me. I already know."

And for the first time, he said something that really surprised her.

"No, you don't."

Her eyes widened. She listened attentively.

"I'm sorry, I…" he started, "…I don't know what better way to say this."

She pursed her lips.

"…We've found a donor."

The heart monitor went off the charts. Instinctively, he held his arms around her and lovingly laid her back onto her bed. His eyes never left hers for a second. She brought her two hands up from underneath the covers and forced his face into hers. He didn't refuse.

He was about to fall over her onto the bed when he caught himself and pulled away. He smiled, and she smiled as well.

"I can't believe it, Link," she squeaked, her eyes glistening. "Somebody has been kind enough to donate their own heart for me." She brought her hands to his strong shoulders. "Tell me that this isn't a dream."

"The transplant is tomorrow," he assured her, wrapping his fingers around hers. "It's happening."

"And you'll be there when it's done?" she asked with a faithful smile. Of course, she already knew the answer. She always did.

He smiled in return, but said nothing. After all, there was nothing more that needed to be said. He dropped her hand and looked in the opposite direction out into the starry night sky. Albeit the flashing neon lights that caught his attention, it was a peaceful scene. She wondered for a second why he chose to look away at that moment.

But of course, he was only hiding his infinite bliss. She would live. She would be happy.

There was nothing else he could ever want.

~x~X~x~

He wasn't there when she was escorted to her room after the transplant. A little distressed, she calmed herself as the nurses helped her into her hospital bed—there was no reason to cause her brand-new heart any pain, after all. She reasoned that it was just traffic, an unexpected occurrence that would only hinder his arrival slightly. But in time, the analog clock that ticked perpetually beside her head could not have been a better reminder to her that the hours slipped by without a single glimpse of her loved one.

When a familiar nurse walked into the room to check up on her, she'd taken the chance to ask,

"Where is he?"

Her eyes locked themselves with those of the nurse's, for then if he would even think about telling anything but the truth, she would know. He turned to her completely, clipboard underneath his arm, and carelessly twirled a ballpoint pen with his fingers.

"I don't know."

There was nothing more that she could ask. So she waited. She waited all through the morning, and even when the light of the glossy afternoon sun vanished to make way for the dark blues of the night, not once did she leave her perch. By nature, she was a rebellious young lady—given the chance, she would gladly leap off of her hospital bed and run off to experience the joys of the world that she had missed for the past few months, despite the warnings of her doctors and nurses. But she was not given this chance. She wanted to wait for him.

She could only assume the worst, as paranoid as she could be. She had only been alive for the past few months because of him and him alone—otherwise, she would have fallen into insanity by the end of her initial months at the hospital. She'd been told that other patients with the same condition as hers only lasted for a few days hospitalized, weeks at most, but she still remained here as if she had been blessed by the Goddesses. But now, as she gazed into the darkness of the room, knowing that there was nothing there in her company besides loneliness, her fears seemed like a reality.

There was no comfort for her even after the procedure was completed. She had been wheeled back into her room—her empty, lifeless, pale-faced husk of a room filled with everything that could possibly remind her of _him_. It was here that he'd sat beside her on the most stressful of nights, vowing not to sleep or leave until her condition was okay. He'd spent countless hours soothing her tired soul, faithfully trying to convince her that they _would_ find a donor in time and how she _would_ live no matter what.

"I'll make sure of it," he'd said, grasping her hands with his own. "I promise."

And she'd never known him to break a promise.

She didn't fall asleep that night. The endless movements of the wall clock kept her anxious and worried with each passing moment. A small part of her reasoned that he merely forgot, or perhaps he'd landed himself in detention today and was unable to escape due to the ever-watchful eyes of a strict teacher. But the majority of her thought otherwise. What if he didn't care about her anymore? What if he'd been severely injured in a car accident on his way here? He could very well be sitting in the room next to hers, hooked up to a heart monitor and desperately hanging onto what's left of his life just like she had been only a few days earlier.

She began to lift herself off of her bed, finally making the decision to find out where her precious Link had gone. Her arms, still frail from months of disuse, struggled to support her weight as she moved her legs off of the edge of her bed and touched the icy cold marble floor with her toes.

She didn't care if she had just undergone a heart transplant, or that the pain shooting through her legs with every step could possibly cause more damage to her health. Recklessness was never something that she commonly flaunted; even then, she walked unsteadily toward the door and pushed her way through the dark corridors of the hospital. Her silk nightgown swayed with every step, gently brushing the tiled floor, and by the time she had arrived at the bottom level of the building, it had gathered a fine line of dirt and filth around its edges.

_Maybe he's at home._

She walked through the familiar streets of the city, soundless this night despite its reputation. But every light seemed to be a blur; every face she met looked the same. When she'd arrived at his house, the sun had barely grazed the edge of the horizon line and was quickly tinting the sky in a brighter shade of blue, mixed amongst other colors. She lifted her hand to the doorbell and hesitated only once to ponder just who would be the one to meet her on the other side, and then pressed it boldly.

There was no answer.

She turned the doorknob, and to her surprise, it was unlocked. She stepped into his dark house uncertainly, even though she was sure she had been here countless times before. His warm scent filled her lungs.

_Where are you, Link?_

She climbed up the stairs, grasping the wooden rail for support. She walked up to his room, but before she could go any further, she remembered why she was here in the first place.

He wasn't there like he said he would be.

He didn't keep his word.

She saw herself in his arms under the harps of an ancient tree, many years ago. He'd let her cry her heart out on him for many hours—since the break of dawn, when the tragedy had happened. Losing her mother was something she had come to suppress, but she remembered, clearly, that after she had calmed down and apologized for soaking his shirt, he said,

"I'll always be there when you need me, Zelda."

She needed him now. Was it an empty promise?

She shook her head.

_It couldn't be._

Her hand twisted the doorknob, and she stepped inside. The bed was empty, and the room was neat—something she thought she'd never live to see. The closet was closed, the drawers and desk organized. The single window in the room was veiled with heavy green drapes, but a single beam of dawn-light shone into the room.

There was an envelope on the desk.

She approached it slowly, gracefully. Was it for her? She held it up in the dim light and—when she realized that it wasn't sealed—removed its contents and held it gently in one hand; the other was pressed against her chest, feeling the strong beat of her new heart.

She unfolded the letter.

_Zelda._

_I know you're wondering why I wasn't there for you after the transplant like I said I would be. And I know that you're also wondering why my front door was unlocked and why my room is actually clean for once. Because if I know you well enough, you've escaped from the hospital just to see where I was._

_Did I guess right?_

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there to see you with that big smile I know you had right after they put in your new heart. I'm sorry that I didn't keep my word._

_And I'm sure you've heard it a million times already, but I'll say it anyway, just to make sure that you'll remember._

_I love you. I love the way you smile, the way you laugh. The way you wrap your arms around me whenever we hug. I love everything about you, especially your strength._

_So stay strong for me when I tell you this, Zelda._

_I love you with all my heart._

_That's why I decided to give it to you._

_I'll never forget the time we've shared together. Don't cry—I made this decision myself, and I regret nothing. By the time you read this, I'll be with Farore, watching you from above. I want to see you fulfill your dreams and live your life the way we talked about it when we were kids. I want to see you be happy._

_I never was the best writer, and when it comes to times like this, I'm honestly at a loss for words. So I'll end it with this, just like I say to you every day._

_My heart is yours._

—_**Link**_

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><p>~x~X~x~<p>

_**-Eternal Nocturne-**_

_**Lasting – Completed on December 31, 2011**_


End file.
